The Boy and His Box
by thetardisgirl2026
Summary: I'm doing a bunch of short stories based on an emotion. How the Doctor would react scared? Joyed? Excited? I'm trying to do one a day!
1. Fear

Fear

The Doctor had settled down in the console room to a big and heavy book. Clara had a weekend away from the Maitlands', as they were spending a weekend away in the country. The Doctor had decided then, to take her for the day to a trip on a planet which was known for its excellent honey and now, he decided to try and keep bees. Clara laughed at the idea, mocking him. He was determined for it to work though. "I'll prove you wrong!" The Doctor cried, taking in another spoonful of honey. So, as Clara had disappeared to sleep in her bedroom, the Doctor opened up the big and heavy '_A Guide to Beekeeping_.' The console room light was dim and the longer he read, the more his eyes grew heavy. Very quickly, he began to grow more and more tired. Just before he closed his eyes, the loud, frantic and thunderous noise of the Cloister Bell sounded.

He couldn't see a thing. The air was cold and humid. There was a thick fog all around him and he could barely see his hands in front of him. He blindly took a step forward and felt the ground where he was standing. It was cold and muddy. Taking a few more steps through the dark veil of fog, he felt his surroundings. Trees. He was in a forest. He listened for the sound of any life. For the sound of wind, or the bubbling of a river. Nothing. It was all silent apart from the sound of his thudding hearts and his sharp, quick breath. The Doctor stood still, trying to remember what had happened. He couldn't. This was all he remembered, the dark, the fog, the creeping feeling behind him. He whipped his head round, but there was nothing there. _But I remember there being more. _He couldn't think straight at all. Why couldn't he remember anything? Trying to come to his senses, he realised that he should keep moving and look for water or a sign of life. Shuffling forward through the swirling storm, he felt like a phantom, just gliding through the blindness. After what seemed like hours, the ground beneath his feet changed, it was more rocky, and slippy from ice. He walked more carefully now, still behind the mask of fog. However, the ground beneath his feet dropped, and he lost his footing, exhausted from walking he tumbled down the rocky hill and let out a cry as he hit the jagged bottom with a thud.

The Doctor flickered open his eyes. His head was pounding and a cut was bleeding quite heavily on his forehead. He had scraped his cheek and wrists, but otherwise he was fine. He regained his balance and stood up again, taking off his bow tie and wiping the blood from his bleeding head. He listened again for sounds, but it was silent. The only sound came from his quick breaths and his racing hearts. Just as he was regaining his senses, an unexpected crunch came from behind him. He turned around abruptly and saw a tall shadow looming in the fog. It slowly approached and started to chase him. That awful creeping feeling returned. The Doctor was scared. He ran blindly. As fast as he could, he didn't care if he tripped or stumbled, but he ran and ran and ran for his life. The fog lifted slightly, and now he could see a little better, but it was starting to get darker and colder. He kept running, but the shadow kept chasing him, he could hear the loud, rapid pacing of footsteps chasing him. Every step he took affected his head, hearing the crash of the Cloister Bell cry out in his head. He yelped as he crashed into a tree branch. The whole place was taunting him. The steps got louder and louder, but he still couldn't see his pursuer. He took off again, his breath heavy and fast, with his hearts pounding against his rib cage. He stole a quick glance behind him and cried out as he saw more shadows hunting him. He clamped his hand over his mouth to prevent him from crying out. His footsteps thundered on the ground and the footsteps behind him grew louder and louder until it was all he could hear. The Doctor ran, even though his chest ached. He looked behind him every so often, and at last, the shadows seemed to have disappeared. He knew he could not rest for long though, as they could be lurking behind the tree trunks. Sprinting on a little forward he tripped over a large lump on the ground and landed in a large puddle. Gasping for breath, he felt his blood rush around his body and his heart beat in his head. He knelt up, looking at what he had tripped over. It only took one glance at the ghastly face on the floor to make him feel sick to the bone. He hadn't landed in a puddle, he'd landed in a pool of blood. He searched the face for some sort of life, but he knew it was hopeless. In front of him, lay a little girl. She was recognisable, but his memory was very hazy. He felt like he knew her. She was obviously not strong enough to outrun the hunting shadows and what lies within them. It was her face that made him the most shocked. She was smiling. He knelt over her and sobbed silently. His body heaving with every sob. He stood up slowly, fully aware that he was covered in the young child's blood.

The fog was nearly gone. But the nightmare was more alive than ever. Again and again, shadows appeared behind him. This time though it was different, it felt worse. The creeping feeling felt like a cold breath down his neck. All of a sudden there was a burst of laughter from behind him, a child's laughter, growing louder and louder like the Cloister Bell in his head. He felt himself stop dead in his tracks. Slowly turning around toward the shadows and laughter. It was like a trance, but he knew it was wrong. It felt wrong. He couldn't control it. He heard a melody of a lullaby in his head, playing lightly, and he felt himself grow tired. No. He couldn't sleep. Not facing the shadows, not dead in the tracks of the shadows. He gathered up all his strength and punched himself in the ribs, where it hurt from the breathing. He ran again, away from the girl's laughter and her melody. The darkness had lifted, and the fog had turned to a light misty haze. He reached a clearing in the forest and breathed a sigh of relief. There was life here. He saw amongst the branches a swarm of light, little fireflies glowing green and orange. He walked into the centre of the clearing and watched as they surrounded him. The darkness was lit slightly by the light of the fireflies. He laughed even, gazing up at a slight hope that maybe he might find the TARDIS again. Maybe he might find Clara again. Or maybe, this was a dream. And he would wake up. He laughed with pure joy in his voice as he realised his memories were returning, the TARDIS! How could he forget his home. With the thought of the TARDIS in his mind, he almost didn't notice the shadows laughing at him from the trees as the cold breath down his neck grew heavier and the ground beneath his feet froze up, with the lights of the fireflies flickering off one by one until they were gone. He heard them hit the ground around him. He knelt to the ground slowly as the melody grew louder and louder and louder, until it was all he could hear or feel. The shadow of the child placed a small, cold hand on his arm, and he felt it brush up his arm. His heart raced and his mind slowed. The Doctor was terrified. The girl placed a hand on his shoulder and he slowly fell asleep to her soft singing lullaby.

He woke up. He wasn't sure how long he had been sleeping, or if he had been sleeping at all. But from what he could tell, it wasn't long at all, because the cold hand was placed on the back of his neck and the lullaby had stopped. He whipped his head around and saw what had interrupted his death. The TARDIS. If only he could reach it. It was standing in the midst of the trees, through the darkness, he saw the bulb flashing, calling him home. The child began to sing again, unfazed by the materialising box. With his exhausted body, he gathered his strength, or whatever was left of it. He rose as quickly as possible, shaking off the shadow. He staggered through the woods, the shadow girl chasing him. He picked up his pace as much as he could. Only a few more metres now. He was drawing near quickly. The TARDIS seemed to be relieved. It swung open it's doors as the Doctor stumbled inside and collapsed on the floor.

"Thank you, girl." He trembled to the TARDIS as the doors swung and locked behind him. The TARDIS began to fly, without him having to even get up. She could sense that he was distraught. He sat against the door, covering his face with his hands, crying silently. Clara raced through the doors in her dressing gown,  
"Doctor? You're not wearing a bow tie. Where have you been? Hey-" She was cut off by the look of agony on his face. He had tears running down his scraped and bloody cheeks and was breathing heavily. She raced down beside him, "Doctor? What's happened?" Clara gulped.

He held out a shaky hand and touched her cheek,

"I-It wasn't a dream." He quaked. The Doctor stood up and adjusted himself. He stopped crying and wiped his cheeks. He walked over to the console and pulled a few levers and pushed a few buttons before turning the monitor towards him and turning the dial. "I was pulled in a telepathic field. Created a real life dream. TARDIS took a while to track me down. Took hours." He mumbled.

"What happened? Why didn't I get pulled in?"

"It created a nightmare. I nearly died, and I suspect I wouldn't have been able to regenerate either. You didn't get pulled in because it was not looking for humans, but Time Lords." He sighed heavily.

"Are you okay, Doctor?" Clara asked, comfortingly.

"I will be. Of course, I will be, hey, it's me!" He laughed, "The memory will have faded in a few hours. Just need to sort out this cut."

"So, do you want to talk to me about anything?" Clara inquired.

"Let's talk plans for the new bee farm!" He picked up the big heavy '_A Guide to Beekeeping_,' he chimed. Though, inside he felt like bawling. The little girl. He had remembered who she was. She was his childhood friend. He tried to shrug off his nightmare reality, but he knew it would take longer than he thought. _I have Clara now._ He told himself. He wasn't alone, he knew that. Everything was in its right place.

I know it's pretty bad. But I got an idea for this a while ago, ahhh. Okay, it's getting quite late here, so I'm sorry if it seems quite rushed. Ahh. Sorry, it's the first one, I tried! Hopefully I'll get better…


	2. Boredom

Boredom

"One, two, three, four, five..." The Doctor bounced a small, red rubber ball against the TARDIS wall. He was waiting for Clara to get ready and dressed but she was taking _forever_. "Clara!" He shouted, only to be met with an annoyed shout from her. He sighed and drummed his fingers on the ball before throwing it down in annoyance. He had spent all night planning an amazing trip through the meadows of tall blue grass on a planet not too far from Earth. He had prepared a huge picnic to take with them too, as it was going to be the warmest day of the year. He slumped down on a chair near the console and sighed, placing his head in his right hand. "How can I be bored? Boredom is stupid." He complained to himself, violently tapping his feet on the floor. Abruptly standing up, he stormed off down the corridors.

The Doctor rapped on Clara's door, "What is taking you so long? I have a picnic waiting!"

"I know, I know I'm sorry...I won't be too long. I just have to have a shower and get dressed." She responded.

"Too long? And what have you been doing all this time?" He spoke quieter and to himself, followed by a small groan. He stormed off down the TARDIS and tried to find something to do. He decided to tidy up the library. He took a feather duster out of a cupboard on the way out and smiled at it, remind him of the time he took Clara to the funfair and bought a load of candyfloss. It didn't take him too long though as he didn't do a very good job, but he stood proud nonetheless at his 'not as dusty' shelves. He checked his watch and looked astonished, finding out he hadn't taken that long at all, he tapped it to see if it was broken, but it didn't budge. "B-but how?" He exclaimed loudly. It had only taken him fifteen minutes.

Swinging on the swing beneath the console, fiddling with wires and tools, with a cheap, dusty and old copy of a TARDIS Type 40 Manual in hand, he had decided to try and fix the broken Chameleon Circuit. He fused to wires together, but got a fright when it sent a dozen bright and colourful sparks right in his face. He had failed. _Why should I even bother fixing it now? It's been far too long._ He took off his goggles and tidied up the large mess he had created and decided to see how long a nap he could take in the sitting room. "So much for a picnic, Clara Oswald," he mumbled as he closed his eyes.

"Doctor, why are you sleeping?" Clara placed a hand on his shoulder, giving him a huge fright and woke him up straight away.

"Oi! Don't wake me like that!" He snapped but soon changed his tone when he found out she was finally ready, "Oh you're ready now! Yes, we can still get there in time for the dancing! I love the dancing. Well, we could have gone anyway, this is a time machine, but we are on time! Does that make sense? I'm not entirely sure. Oh and they have the most amazing cakes there." The Doctor rambled on as Clara laughed.

"Come on then, let's have a picnic!" She chimed. The Doctor smiled and led her by the hand out of the TARDIS and into a huge meadow of tall, blue grass. There was a small stream running down the centre, with what looked like fuzzy blue hills all around them. At the bottom of the field, they spotted a town, all lit up and decorated for the big dance this evening.

The Doctor ran down the hill, carrying the picnic basket in one hand, "Come on, Clara! I'll tell you now it'll be very, very hard to be bored out here!" He beamed.

It's shorter and more happier than yesterday's. I'm in a much happier mood today too, but this isn't about me! Thanks for the follows and the review! I wasn't expecting much at all! Have a great day, or night, like here in foggy old Scotland!


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